


Naked And Fallin' In Love

by haiplana



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haiplana/pseuds/haiplana
Summary: Charlotte wakes up to find that Isabella is gone





	Naked And Fallin' In Love

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean for this to be a follow-up to my first Fitzwells fic (Touch Me (Just Like That)) but that's how it turned out.
> 
> You don't have to read the first one to understand it but feel free if you want.

The bed is still warm and smells like a flowered fragrance — smells like Isabella — and in her drowsy state Charlotte figures that if she reaches forward she’ll feel the soft skin of her lover. She does so, gently sliding her fingers over the sheets. She stretches until the edge of the mattress meets her fingertips and bolts awake. Her chest heaves in fear.

Charlotte isn’t sure what her first thought is — it could have been Harcourt, come to steal Isabella away in the night, Isabella could have realized the error of her ways and left like an apparition. The candles have mostly burned down to their holders, Charlotte can see light fighting through the drapes at the small windows. Her clothes are still on the floor, forgotten about; Isabella’s garments are missing, but for her pale overcoat and the clips and combs from her hair that are scattered around it.

There is no sign of a struggle, but that doesn’t settle Charlotte’s nerves. The door is closed, the key sitting on the table next to it, which is a welcome sight after weeks in Lydia Quigley’s. Fresh water has been poured in the basin. As far as Charlotte can see, Isabella has gone, and it seems as though is was of her own volition.

Charlotte isn’t sure if she’s surprised.

Charlotte is quite sure that she’s disappointed.

She can feel it in her core, the rejection and the shame. She rarely ever feels these emotions, especially not after sex. But this had been a woman, and though she had heard word of women who bedded one another, had been friends with Violet Cross and knew of her persuasion, especially with Amelia Scanwell, she wasn’t sure it was proper, even for her. It definitely was not for Lady Isabella. A woman of her standing would be well and truly ruined.

But wasn’t she already ruined? Hadn’t Isabella herself admitted that much only the night before? Though Isabella thought it made her unworthy of love, Charlotte thought she was even more deserving of love because of it. If Charlotte would be the one to give that love to Isabella, did it matter that she was a woman?

A chorus of laughter disturbs her heartbroken rumination. It had come from the kitchen. Charlotte sighs, not wanting to face the others after what she’s done, but knowing she must. She wants to see if Lucy is awake and willing to yield, finally. She combs her fingers through her short, messy hair, unable to do much more than that. She’s fairly certain that her make up is smudged, and that Isabella’s lipstick is printed on various places over her body. She avoids looking down.

Her limbs feel heavy with sadness, so she only manages to toss her chemise over her before leaving the room. No one will mind, anyway. The clock on the mantle reveals that it is half past eight; they shouldn’t have many culls this early. More laughter greets her as she steps over the threshold. She makes her way down the stairs, and she is shocked to hear a certain low, velvety voice carrying through the space. Charlotte rushes to the kitchen, as though it cannot be real until she sees it.

Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam is seated at the kitchen table, closest to the fire. Her hair is still mussed, stray curls falling around her head, and her face is fresh, glowing. She wears her dress from the night before, though the absence of her overcoat shows the layers of petticoats topped with her laced stays. A cup of tea is steaming in front of her.

Charlotte exhales, smiles at the beauty of her.

Nancy is tucked into a corner of the kitchen, a rare smile on her face. Fanny is seated at the head of the table, holding her baby and still laughing lightly. A blonde girl she only mildly recognizes from the night before, a new addition to her mother’s house, is preparing another pot of tea.

Nancy is the first to notice Charlotte, her lighted eyes gazing at her from across the room. “Charlotte, you didn’t tell us your lady was a jester.”

Charlotte is rather confused at all of it — she was already shocked to find Isabella still in the house, let alone sharing tea with Nancy and sending Fanny into stitches. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, and as she does, Isabella turns on her chair to look at Charlotte. She smiles, and Charlotte is overwhelmed by the perfect way her lips curve across her face and her eyes soften.

“I fear dear Charlotte hasn’t seen enough of my humor,” Isabella says, her eyes never leaving Charlotte. “Care for tea?”

Isabella is already preparing her a cup when she shuffles forward. Charlotte is still in a daze of shock and utter joy. Fanny passes her the bowl of sugar that sits in front of her. The girl at the stove turns to speak to Fanny, and Charlotte takes the moment to dip her head to speak only to Isabella.

“I thought you had gone,” Charlotte says, her voice still raw from sleep and the night before.

“I’m sorry, I should have been there for when you awoke. Nancy came to get you, and I was awake when she opened the door. When she saw our…” Isabella pauses, blushes, “…state, she said wanted a word, and we thought it best to let you sleep.”

Charlotte is still baffled by it all, and she finds words are escaping her. “How are you?” she finally manages. Isabella smiles, reaches out to touch Charlotte’s hand in her lap.

“I’m well. Very well, in fact.” Her words are soft and genuine, if a little smug. It makes Charlotte’s heart flutter. Isabella’s blue eyes shine in the morning light and her colors contrast beautifully against the red walls of the kitchen.

“So, how long are you stayin’?” Fanny asks, breaking the sanctity of Charlotte and Isabella’s quiet moment. The baby in her arms, Kitty, begins to cry, and Fanny rocks and her shushes her softly.

“A few days, or as long as it takes for things to be sorted,” Isabella replies. She watches as Fanny stands to try and calm Kitty, a longing in her eyes. “May I take her?”

Fanny looks at Isabella, shocked. “Of course, M’lady.”

“Please, no titles here,” Isabella says, gentle as the baby is passed into her arms.

Charlotte watches, enraptured. Isabella is a natural mother — she cradles the baby perfectly in one arm and reaches the other to run her fingers lightly over the soft face, shushing her all the while. Kitty seems to like the light tingling that Isabella’s fingers must elicit, because she falls into gurgles and then drifts into sleep.

“You’re beautiful with her,” Charlotte says. Isabella looks up at her with watering eyes. Charlotte fights the urge to reach out and caress Isabella’s cheek.

Nancy has been observing them from the corner, as she is wont to do. She finally speaks after a few more moments. “Fanny, why don’t you take the girl up to nap, let Charlotte and Isabella speak.”

Fanny nods and takes back her daughter from Isabella’s arms. After she leaves, Nancy gestures from Charlotte to the door, and Charlotte takes the hint. She stands and walks past Isabella, pausing to place her hand firmly on Isabella’s bare shoulder before continuing on. She knows that Isabella will follow.

They stop in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. Charlotte can hear her pa going through papers in the parlor, and another one of the girls is entertaining a loud cull upstairs. Charlotte sees it all from an outsider’s point of view, from what must be Isabella’s, for the first time, and she feels unwelcome shame. But Isabella doesn’t seem to mind, not anymore, and it reminds Charlotte that she has nothing to be ashamed about.

“I only held my daughter for a few moments before I had to give her up.” Isabella’s voice is thick, watery. “I still remember how her little body felt nestled in the crook of my arm. I have been wanting to hold her again ever since.”

“I am sorry, Isabella,” Charlotte says.

“It’s no matter now.”

Charlotte’s eyes scan Isabella, the sad smile on her lips, the tightness in her shoulders. It matters, and it always will. She decides to take their minds off of it. “So, Lady Fitz, cavorting with harlots and taking tea in a bawdy house?” she jokes.

Isabella rolls her eyes. “It seems you’ve enlightened me.”

“Really?” Charlotte’s voice is low, her eyes roaming. She doesn’t resist the urge to touch Isabella this time; she takes a small step forward and Isabella takes a step back. Charlotte, still in her chemise, is able to press into Isabella’s thick skirts as she puts her hands on her hips and fits them between the wall and her own. “I’d like to _enlighten_ you some more.”

Isabella kisses her firmly, taking Charlotte’s face between her hands. Charlotte is already moving, devising some strategy to rip the thick skirts off quickly. She is stopped by the heavy tread of boots that precede Nancy tapping her cane into Charlotte’s back.

“I spent too much time tying all those strings just for you to undo my work,” Nancy says. She crosses into the parlor, but looks back. “Leave her dressed and come help me and your pa.”

Charlotte leans up and kisses Isabella again. “You ought to go to my room, lest you be mistaken for a harlot.”

“I wouldn’t dare to steal your culls.” Isabella takes Charlotte’s hand and presses her lips to her knuckles. “You know where to find me.” Charlotte nods and watches the sway of Isabella’s hips as she ascends the stairs before entering the parlor.

After a long talk with Nancy and her pa, Charlotte does find Isabella, naked and waiting, exactly where she said she’d be.

**Author's Note:**

> Name the song that the title is from! Winner gets a prompt request!


End file.
